Playing the Player

by Lisa Brown Roberts

  “Bro-ho!” he yelled, sending a wave of water my direction.

  I grabbed him around the neck and we went underwater, shoving each other and kicking. I heard the lifeguard’s whistle and we broke apart, rising back above the surface, laughing.

  Lindsay the lifeguard glared down at us from her plastic throne. “Come on, you guys. Knock it off.”

  “You know you love it,” I called up to her. “Watching two hot, half-naked guys wrestle.”

  She bit back a smile, then turned away to focus on the little kids. Lindsay and I had been a thing once. For a week or so, last summer. At least, I think it was last summer.

  “Let’s eat,” Alex called over his shoulder as we swam back toward our pool chairs.

  The sun baked our skin dry while we ate our burgers. Mine was a double-cheese. Alex had a veggie abomination.

  “Want my advice about Bird Brain?” Alex asked around a mouthful of his sawdust burger.

  “Nope.” I spoke around an even bigger mouthful of fries.

  He ignored me. “Be nice to her. You’re stuck with her for the whole summer. You might as well try to make it as painless as possible.”

  I swallowed my fries. “When I am ever not nice to girls?”

  He shot me a look. “Let’s just say you have…degrees of niceness, when it comes to girls. Trina’s way down your scale. Sort of like you’d help her up if she fell down in front of you, but you wouldn’t notice when she tripped over you in the first place.”

  I took another bite, chewing slowly while formulating my argument.

  “Also,” he continued, “you might actually learn something from her extreme organizational skills.”

  “That’s crazy talk,” I said. “I know how to be organized. I just choose to spend my time doing other things. And of course I’d notice if she tripped over me.” Because that frigging binder would explode and I’d have critical paper cut injuries from the notebook shrapnel.

  Alex leaned back and closed his eyes. “I don’t know why I bother giving you advice.”

  “Me, either,” I agreed. “I do just fine without it.”

  He snorted next to me. “Really? What about when I advised you not to invite Samantha to prom?”

  Ouch. Sam had turned into Super-stalker, calling me night and day for weeks leading up to the prom, and for weeks after the prom, too. I’d ended up changing my cell number.

  “Okay, so maybe I should have listened to you. Usually my stalker radar is pretty good.”

  “Not that time.” He slurped his soda. “And then there was the memorable ski weekend with the Worthington twins.”

  I cringed. The weekend had started out great. I’d gone skiing with Alex’s family. The twins’ parents had been out of town, but they let the girls use the ski condo. When we ran into them on the slopes, they’d invited us to hang out at their place. It had been awesome, until their boyfriends showed up.

  How was I supposed to know the twins were dating college guys? And that they told them where they were staying? Alex and I had pretended we were a couple so the guys wouldn’t beat us up.

  “Okay, dude. I get the point, but you’re not exactly a saint,” I argued.

  “I never said I was,” he said. “But the difference is I actually care about the guys I’m with.” He sighed dramatically. “You know me. I’m a sucker for love.”

  I pointed a french fry at him. “See, that’s your problem. You’re too much of a romantic. And look what happens. You get your heart broken.” It was true. I’d been there for him every time. One broken heart was enough of a lesson for me. I wasn’t dumb enough to risk that again.

  Alex was quiet for a moment. “Maybe so. But in between the heartbreaks? When I’m in love? It’s awesome. You should try it sometime.” He paused, then shot me a grin. “Man ho.”

  “Sap.”

  “Bro-ho.”

  “You’re addicted,” I said. “To the drama. To the crazy highs and lows.”

  “Cynic,” he retorted. “Just wait. One of these days, it’ll happen to you.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  He rubbed his chin. “Why yes, I believe I will take that wager. Fifty bucks says one of these days you’re going to fall. Hard. And you won’t know what hit you.”

  I shook my head. “No way. No how.”

  “You’ll see. Some day you’ll be the dork spelling out ‘I love you’ in chocolate chips on a huge cookie for some unlucky girl.”

  I gaped at him. “Who would do something that lame-stream?”

  He ducked his head, looking sheepish. “Me. For Tim. Last year on Valentine’s Day.”

  We laughed, then he sat up straight all of a sudden, shoving his burger aside. “Okay, here’s a safer bet. You think you’re man enough to get Trina to lighten up?”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. “Define ‘lighten up.’”

  He rubbed his chin. “Dancing in the streets. Setting her binder on fire.”

  I winced. “Even I couldn’t make that happen.”

  “Chicken.”

  I couldn’t resist a challenge. Besides, I’d never met a girl who didn’t eventually succumb to my charms…at least my physical ones. “Deal. By the end of summer she’ll be partying like a rock star. Or at least not handing out boycott flyers on every corner.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “We talking hookup?”

  I flinched. “No way. She’s not my type.” I chewed on a fry. “But I’m sure I can get her to ratchet down the drill sergeant vibe.”

  Alex nodded. “Okay, but we need to agree on criteria. I’ll need to see the new Trina in action. Going crazy, dancing on tables. Upside-down beer bong.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not a miracle worker. But I bet you fifty bucks I can get her to chill.”

  “Okay,” Alex agreed. “You know how Carson always throws that blowout end of summer party? Bring Trina to that. I want to see her dancing. Maybe even having a drink or two.” He leaned forward. “Swapping spit with somebody.”

  My lounge chair suddenly felt too hot, and I had the urge to jump in the pool again. I stuck out my hand. “Fine. Fifty bucks says she’s the life of the party.” I paused. “Or at least not a total buzzkill.”

  He shook my hand, laughing. “This is gonna be easy money for me, my friend. Not even you can unwind that girl.”

  Chapter Four

  Trina

  Monday, June 3

  As I pulled up to Gillian’s house, I sniffed the lavender oil on my wrist. A gift from my best friend Desi, the oil was supposed to relax me. She said it would help me stay chill around Slade. Yeah, right. I’d need actual Harry Potter magic for that, not some herbal placebo.

  I glanced at the schedule on my cell phone. 8:30 a.m.: arrive at Gillian’s. It was 8:25. Perfect. I smiled with satisfaction as I slammed my car door.

  Mrs. Forrester flung open the front door, looking harried. She hopped around on one bare foot while tugging a high-heeled sandal onto the other one. And she wore two different earrings.

  “Trina, I’m so glad to see you. My God, what a morning we’ve had.”

  I followed her into the kitchen where Gillian sat at the table, naked, eating Lucky Charms. She waved her dripping spoon at me.

  I plunked down in the chair across from her¸ wondering where her clothes were.

  “It’s naked day,” Gillian announced, reading my mind. “So you need to take off all your clothes.” She glared at my purple tank top and denim shorts.

  Mrs. Forrester dropped a hand onto her daughter’s forehead. “She doesn’t have a fever,” she joked. “Just another typical day for Gillian.” She looked amused, but exhausted, as she tugged on her other shoe.

  I nodded. “So,” I said. “The sooner you get dressed, Gillian, the sooner we can go meet Max.”

  And his nanny. But I didn’t want to think about that until I was face-to-face with him.

  Gillian shook her head. “Max has to be naked, too. I’m ready to go!” She streaked out of the kitchen, laughing, with her little
Chihuahua, Spike, chasing after her.

  Mrs. Forrester sighed heavily as she grabbed Gillian’s bowl from the table. She leaned against the kitchen counter, watching me. “You have no idea how much I appreciate you nannying for us.”

  “I think maybe I do.” I tugged on an earlobe. “Um, your earrings don’t match.”

  “Oh! Thanks for letting me know.” She smiled sheepishly and pulled them out of her ears.

  “So do I get bonus cookies for working naked?”

  Mrs. Forrester laughed. “She’s kind of going through a phase with the naked thing.” She bit her lip. “I hope she doesn’t try to strip at the museum today.”

  I swallowed. “Is that a possibility?”

  Mrs. Forrester shrugged. “Maybe. But we’ve been working with her on the importance of staying clothed. At least in public she’s moving away from total nudity to her swimsuit.”

  I desperately wanted to sniff the lavender oil on my wrist, but I restrained myself.

  “Anyway, I’m sure it’ll be fine. As long as she’s with Max, she’s happy.” Mrs. Forrester grabbed her purse from the back of a kitchen chair. “Her backpack’s around here somewhere, and you know where everything else is. Oh, I almost forgot.”

  She dug through her purse and handed me a wad of cash. “That should be enough for the museum. Lunch. Something from the gift shop.”

  Gillian bounced into the kitchen wearing sparkling red shoes and Disney princess underwear, but nothing else. “Gift shop!” she exclaimed. “Gift shop, gift shop!” She twirled around the kitchen, her red hair flying out like a fan.

  “Mommy has to leave now, sweetie.” Mrs. Forrester leaned over to hug Gillian. “You behave for Trina.” She glared at her daughter. “And get dressed. Or else.”

  Gillian giggled. “Or else what?”

  “Or else I’ll make you wear clothes to bed.”

  Gillian giggled maniacally and ran out of the room again, Spike at her heels.

  “Good luck,” Mrs. Forrester said, backing out of the kitchen. “You’ll need it.”

  I looked at my phone. 9:12. I pulled up my schedule. 9:00 – arrive at Max’s. My shoulders tensed; we were already late. I searched the lower floor of the house, calling Gillian’s name, but she was well hidden.

  Running late, I texted Slade. Be there soon.

  Like he’d even notice.

  “Gillian!” I called up the stairs and heard a muffled giggle. I ran upstairs and into her bedroom. A dog’s wagging tail peeked out from under the bed. I dropped to my knees and lifted the dust ruffle. Gillian lay flat on the floor, her red sparkling shoes pointed toes up. Her eyes were closed.

  “Shh,” she whispered. “I’m dead.”

  My stomach clenched. “Don’t joke about that, Gillian.” I stretched out my arm and tugged on a tiny sequined shoe. Spike licked my hand. “Come on. Max is waiting for you.”

  She wriggled out from her hiding spot, and I grabbed shorts and a shirt from a messy pile on the floor. “Here.” I handed her the clothes. “Get dressed. Now.” I tried out a glare, but it was half-hearted. It was hard to stay mad at her. She was like a sprite put on earth to make people laugh.

  My phone pinged with a text. No worries, mate.

  Worries? Slade didn’t know the meaning of the word.

  Gillian dropped the clothes I’d given her and rummaged in the pile, yanking out a one-piece swimsuit and tugging it on. “Ta da!” She twirled around. “I’m dressed. Let’s go see Max.”

  I frowned. I hadn’t endured this clothing battle before. “Remember what your mom said. You have to wear clothes in public.”

  She pointed to her princess swimsuit. “This is clothes.”

  I sighed and sank onto her bed. “Not really.” I pointed to my clothes. “These are clothes.”

  She climbed onto the bed, leaning against me, smelling like milk and Lucky Charms. “You could wear your swimsuit, too. We could be twins.”

  Show up in my swimsuit to meet Slade? My whole body blushed at the thought.

  “Gillian, we’re already late. The longer you argue with me, the less time you’ll have with Max.” I tickled her, and she fell back on her mattress, giggling. Spike jumped on the bed and licked her face, eliciting more giggles.

  “Okay, okay!” She slid off the bed and tugged her clothes on over her swimsuit, then put her hands on her hips. “I’m only wearing these cuz the car is public.”

  I stared at her. “You realize the museum is a public place, too, right?”

  She frowned and kicked at the floor with her sequined shoe. “The whole museum?” She peeked at me from under her bangs.

  “Yes. The whole museum.”

  She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room. I followed, laughing to myself and sniffing my wrist.

  We arrived at Max’s house at 9:33. Knots twisted in my stomach. I hated being late, even if it was only Slade and Max.

  Max opened the front door, his serious eyes traveling from Gillian to me then back. He wore Spiderman underwear, nothing else.

  “Yippee!” Gillian screamed, tearing off her clothes as she pushed past him into the house. “Naked day!”

  “Gillian!” I yelled after her, but it was too late. She’d already shed her shirt and shorts and ran up the staircase in her swimsuit, Max close behind her.

  Slade emerged from the kitchen, looking sleepy and tousled. The unexpected adrenaline rush I felt when I saw him surprised me. He glanced toward the kids charging up the staircase, shrugged, then grinned at me. Immune, I told myself. You are immune to his wily charms.

  “Howdy, partner. Want some coffee?” He lifted the mug in his hand and tilted his head in a question. He desperately needed to cut his messy surfer boy hair. He was in his usual slacker mode, wearing a Chase Rice concert T-shirt and faded khaki shorts. Of course he was barefoot.

  “Yeah,” I sighed. “Coffee would be great.” I’d need all the energy I could muster to keep up with Gillian today. Not to mention, the whole pretending-to-be-partners-but-really-secretly mentoring-Slade charade.

  I followed him into the kitchen, where a small TV blasted cartoons. Slade reached over and switched it off. He poured me a cup of coffee, then glanced over his shoulder. “Sugar? Milk?”

  “Um, sugar,” I said, surprised he’d thought to ask. “I can do it. Where’s the bowl?” I stepped toward the counter, and he slid a sugar bowl toward me. Standing so close to him made me jittery, which was completely irrational. I dumped a spoonful into my mug and stirred, not looking at him.

  What did I talk about with someone I had nothing in common with? Someone I was supposed to be secretly supervising? Someone who smelled like pine trees and sunshine?

  Crap. What was wrong with me?

  I shrugged my backpack off my shoulder and pulled out my binder, tossing it with a satisfying thunk onto the table. Slade muttered something under his breath.

  “What?” I turned to look at him, and he widened his infamous eyes, looking innocent.

  “Nothing.” He watched me over the rim of his mug.

  I rubbed my hands together. “So, we have a lot to discuss. I’ve already mapped out this week for us. I think I’ve come up with a good balance of educational activities and character-building exercises.”

  Slade sank into the chair across from me, pulled a foil packet of chocolate Pop Tarts from a box, and started eating one.

  “Aren’t you going to toast that?” I asked him, frowning.

  He shook his head, still chewing.

  I sighed. “Anyway, I’ve also made copies of a few articles for you to read.”

  He stared at me like I was an exhibit in a traveling freak show. “Articles? What about?”

  “Child development. Child safety. Important stuff.”

  I thought I saw him shudder, but I must have been imagining things.

  “In fact…” I reached into my backpack and pulled out a red binder. “I made you your own binder.”

  This time he definitely shuddered. He even stopped chew
ing. He swallowed, and then started choking. He grabbed his mug and took a swig of coffee, but that just made it worse.

  I rushed to his chair and pounded him on the back. “Probably just went down the wrong pipe.”

  He coughed harder, leaning over the table, crumbs flying from his mouth.

  “I know the Heimlich.” I kneeled in front of him, worried by all his hacking noises. “Do you want me to do the Heimlich on you? Give me one finger for yes, two fingers for no.”

  Still coughing violently, he waved four fingers at me, two on each hand.

  Geez. Whatever. Not like I’d hurt him. I totally knew what I was doing from Babysitter First Aid class. I stomped away and opened cupboards until I found a glass, then filled it with water and handed it to him.

  He took it from me, his hands shaking from coughing…and…laughter? Was he actually laughing? He took a few gulps of water and finally got himself under control.

  “What’s so funny, Slade? I thought you were choking to death, but obviously not.” Too bad. That would’ve solved all my problems.

  He set his glass on the table and pointed to his binder. “That is what’s so funny.” He glanced up at me, smirking. “You know I’ll never look inside that thing, right?”

  I crossed my arms and glared at him. Even though I knew he was going to totally bomb as a nanny, I’d decided last night that I owed his mom the courtesy of doing my best to improve Slade this week. After all, she was paying me to let him tag along and learn from me.

  His binder had multiple sections: child development, appropriate activities based on age, and another section with each day’s schedule, plus a section for notes on what he needed to improve. I’d put plenty of blank pages in that section.

  “That binder may be your only chance of succeeding in this job, Slade.”

  Based on the sudden anger flashing in his tiger-like eyes, maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say. I cleared my throat and tugged at the spikes of hair framing my face, painfully aware that my entire body was blushing.

  “What I mean is, um, I’ve found that using a binder really helps me stay organized. So I thought maybe it could help you, too.”

  There was so much I could teach him. But maybe I should dole it out slowly.